Delayed Exposure
by CloverRock
Summary: [MomijixHaru] Let it never be said that Momiji is a hateful boy. There are many things that he dislikes but hate, there are only three. He hates Akito, he hates the cold ... and he hates being alone.


_**Disclaimer**: I did not create Fruits basket; the characters and situations are all owned by the goddess Natsuki Takaya, and published by Tokyopop._

_**Pairing**: **Momiji/Haru,** Kisa/Hiro, others possibly in later chapters_

_**A/N**: I realise that **Haru/Momiji** isn't exactly a common pairing, and I support lot of others (Like Haru/Yuki) but I'm really drawn to them. It's not exactly their cannon relationship, but it's them separately. I'd say that they are each my favourite characters. Well, them, and Yuki and Kyo and Tohru and Shigure and Kisa and … oh, hell. I love them all! That's what's amazing about Natsuki Takaya's series- I love each of the characters! They're all so amazing!_

_Sorry to all of you who had me on author's alert for my Harry Potter writing. If you aren't familiar with the Manga or Anime Fruits Basket, this is probably frustrating- However, it's a great read (Or watch, I've heard. I've never seen the DVD's) So I totally recommend it- right now it's my favourite Manga series out there. _

_Normally I won't blab on this much at the beginning (that always kinda bugs me) so; ladies and gentlemen- Let the show begin! _

_**Delayed Exposure**_

_Prologue_

_May 2001_

Let it never be said that Momiji Sohma is a hateful boy. Certainly he comes across things that annoy him- Stale bread. Itchy Sweaters. The stinky boy's locker-room. But hate … no. No matter if bread is stale- it still feeds you when you're hungry. And a sweater, even if it's itchy, is warmer than not having one at all. And the stinky boy's locker room….

Well, he couldn't justify why the locker rooms were not awful in every way- but he was sure that there _was_ a reason not to hate them. He pulled his bed covers further up his body so they were nestled tightly under his chin.

There was one thing he hated, though- Momiji _hated_ being cold.

Really. He hated it. Nothing more, in the entire world next to seeing his friends sad, could compare to his hatred for the cold.

He shivered slightly while drawing his knees closer to his body and readjusted his pyjama leg so it was covering more of his chin. Who invented flood-pants, anyway? Honestly, when it was warm enough to wear shorts, he'd wear shorts. And if it were too cool, he'd wear pants. Flood-pants were just pointless, no matter _how_ stylish.

He thought that he heard a sound from down the hallway, but dismissed it quickly as a trick that the evil arctic wind from outside was playing on him. That afternoon it had began to blow cool air, and now it was absolutely throwing it- with rain and thunder and lighting. It was the first real storm in a long time, and no matter how bad it got, Momiji tried to reassure himself that it meant warm summer weather was on its way.

Summer was definitely Momiji's favourite season. Everything about summer was exciting (even the storms, no matter how much he dreaded them, were exciting). There were so many places to go in the summer; so much time that he could spend out side with his friends, or exploring the city, or under a tree with a good book. In summer everybody seemed happier.

Haru, he recalled, liked the winter. Momiji didn't mind winter, he liked all the seasons, but he really couldn't see how winter could be someone's _favourite_. It could be so dreary, days and days without sun. And of course, it was cold.

After tucking his blanket under him, he was finally beginning to feel some of the warmth that he sought. The wind was still pounding his window, and he silently hoped that Haru had remembered to close his own. He liked to have it open when he did homework or read- he said that the breeze was calming- but he was known for forgetting to close it. Last December, he spent the night on Momiji's floor after leaving for school with his window open. There had been an inch of snow pilled at the head of Haru's bed. Momiji didn't mind, though. He liked the company.

The creaking of a door was scarcely heard over the howling wind outside. He cracked open an eye. A thin thread of light crept under his door from outside his room.

He sat up quickly, immediately regretting it as all the warmth that he had accumulated from his cocoon of bedding was released into the frigid air. He wrapped one of the blankets around his shoulders, and cursed very softly under his breath as his feet met the cold floor. Shuffling quietly across the room, cracked open his bedroom door, and, after squinting a bit as the dim light burned his eyes, peered down the hallway.

Hatsuharu had his back to Momiji, and was closing his door very gently. A soft click was followed by a defeated sigh, and he continued to face the door, bringing a hand up and running it slowly through his hair. Momiji had always been transfixed with Haru's hair. He loved the duo-tone in it, loved how it always fell perfectly in his eyes and around his ears. People said that it looked unnatural, but Momiji couldn't picture the taller boy any other way.

He slid into the hall as quiet as he could, but Haru jerked his head back in surprise, with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. His features softened when he saw the blond, and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Hatsuharu asked in a whisper, surrveying Momiji critically.

"You're one to talk," Momiji replied, noting that Haru was dressed in street cloth, and not pyjamas. There was a large duffel bag at his feet. "What- What are you doing?"

Haru looked sad, dropping his gaze and worrying his lower lip a little. Instinctually, Momiji took a few steps closer.

"I … have to go."

"Go?" Momiji asked, his voice raising a little. He closed his mouth immediately, listening for movement from the other rooms. He heard none, and continued softly. "But why?"

"I don't know."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

"…When will you be coming back?"

"I-" Haru looked up now, his features helpless and mournful, "I don't know. I don't know anything…"

"Bu-But. But what about graduation?" Momiji asked desperately. He hated seeing Hatsuharu like this. He hated seeing the other boy in such despair.

"I guess I miss it."

"It's tomorrow!"

"I know." He said quietly, "I- I still graduate. I just don't get to go to the ceremonies. Akito said so."

"Akito?" Momiji asked, feeling tiny bubble of anger in his stomach, "It's Akito who's sending you away- isn't it?"

The bubble swelled as Haru nodded to the ground again. He felt a prickling in the back of his eyes, but tried to keep tears from spilling. He would be _strong_ for Haru.

When the ox looked up again, he let them fall. Haru already had tears in his eyes. It was heart breaking.

"Haru … I-" And then something weird happened. Hatsuharu took a step forward, and enveloped the smaller boy into a tight hug. Normally, he reserved all signs of affection for Yuki, and no one else, instead putting up cool, indifferent barriers. More tears flowed down Momiji's face, and the blanket that was wrapped around him fell to the floor, momentarily forgotten as he snaked his arms around Haru's waist, "-I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either."

They heard the main door open from below, and Haru pulled back with quickly.

"Go back to bed! Now!"

"But-"

"No one was supposed to know!" he said, looking over Momiji's shoulder towards the stairs, "Just Hatori and I. Go! Before he sees you!"

"But-" Haru pushed the shorter boy towards his room, scooping up the blanket and tossing it over his shoulder. He seemed to be ready to let Momiji go with one final shove, but froze, blinking once.

With speed that was uncharacteristic of the ox, Haru's hands flew to the back of his neck, and in a second, he had unfastened the clasp to one of his necklaces. Grabbing Momiji's hand, he flattened the palm, placed it there, and then with one of his larger hands, folded Momiji's small fingers around it.

"Be safe." Momiji said, not really registering what had just happened- vaguely aware of the cool metal and rough cord in his hand, only slightly more aware of Haru's fingers wrapped around his.

"Be good." The taller of the two said it in a rush, and quickly, to Momiji's surprise, he leaned forward, and placed a quick, soft kiss of his forehead. Momiji's eyes opened wide, but he couldn't say anything else as the door closed. He was left staring at darkness again.

Someone was climbing the stairs. Momiji held his breath.

"Are you ready?" Hatori's voice could be made out through the door.

"Yes." Haru said, emotionless. There was rustling, and Momiji heard to sets of feet decend.

He released his breath, and relaxed his body, when the emblem fell to his feet with a very soft 'clunk'. He jerked his head, startled, and then slowly bent down to see what the offending article had been.

It was a simple necklace in comparison to many of Haru's others, plain hemp twine woven with black and white beads. In the middle there was a small silver charm, and bringing it closer to his face, and squinting his eyes a little, Momiji saw it was a kanji- but not what it meant. Clutching it protectively, he wandered over to his bed and flicked on the light.

Hope.

Suddenly, he could feel the tears that had been running down his face, and he could hear the wind, and the cold of his room once again enveloped.

Bringing the necklace around his neck, he redid the clasp, and let the cool metal and scratchy hemp tickle his skin. The charm fell in the crevice between his collarbones, and more tears were falling down his cheeks, dripping on his lap, leaving little dark marks on his light-blue pyjama pants.

Hope?

It was ironic… He had never felt more hopeless in his life.

He reached over and flicked off the lamp. He pulled himself back into his bed, and realised that all the warmth from before was gone. He tucked the necklace under the soft fabric of his shirt, so he could feel all of it- concentrate on it. Let it soothe him.

And that night, Momiji decided that he hated Akito just as much as he hated the cold.

_**Delayed Exposure**_

_Chapter One:_

_Return_

_December 2004_

Momiji sighed, staring out the long window that was streaked angrily with rain. He hated it when it rained in winter- it was worse than snow, even. It felt colder. Rain had the ability to seep quickly to his core that snow had never possessed. He shivered, though the shop was warm, and suppressed a grimace over the though of going outside.

"She's _reeeeeady!_" Ayame bounces elegantly into the room, twirling around a bit for show, his long kimono fluttering gracefully around his feet. Momiji smiled.

"Well, lets see then!"

They both stared at the change-room door… Nothing happened.

"Kiiiisa! Come out and show Momitchi how _pretty_ you look!"

"I don't want to."

Ayame grinned, and tilted his head dramatically towards Momiji, stage whispering, "She's just self-conscious."

"I am not! I just feel…"

"Beautiful?" Ayame supplied.

"No."

"Stunning?"

"No."

"Gorgeous?"

"I feel silly."

"Ah." Ayame nodded serenely, tapping his chin, "I understand. It's too bad that she feels that way, though," He said to Momiji now, "She _look's_ like a princess."

"Stop. I don't."

"I won't be able to decide," Momiji said, getting up and walking towards the change room door, "'til I get to see for myself."

He heard her sigh reluctantly, but smiled victoriously as the door opened slowly. Kisa stepped out shyly, ducking her head down and blushing furiously.

" … _Wow_…"

"See! Beee-utiful! Absolutely _fabulous_!"

"You look-" Momiji started, surrveying the younger girl in slight shock. She had on a strapless gown that seemed to be made of liquid-soft fabric, which fell to the floor. It was pale pink that contrasted prettily with her tiger-orange hair. There were white roses embroidered around the waist, and fell down one seam towards the hem. She really _did_ look like a princess, "-just … _wow._"

"You think he'll like it?"

"He'd be _crazy_ not too!"

"Well, crazi_er_." Ayame added helpfully, radiating at the girl, grabbing her hand and twirling her around. She let out a little yelp as she was swung around, the pink fabric trailing her.

"Ayame Oji-Chan!" She cried, falling to the soft bench, cheeks red. Ayaa was laughing heartily from the other side of the room. She stood up dizzily and grabbed Momiji's arm.

"Hmm?" he asked, looking down into her bright eyes.

"Do you really think that I should get this one?"

"Yes!" He said, holding he by the shoulders at arms length, "You're beautiful!"

She smiled and blushed, "Thank you!" she turned towards Ayame who was still giggling in the corner, "How much do I own you, Oji-Chan?"

"'_Owe me?_' Honesty, what kind of man would I be, charging a _princess_? I think not! No, I will not accept anything! Absolutely no way! No!"

"But, Oji-Cha-"

"Nope."

She blushed even deeper, and clasped her hands in front of her, "There must be something…"

Ayame looked thoughtful for a second, his eyes softening towards the young girl, "Just keep Hiro out of trouble, hmm?"

If it was possible for Kisa to blush harder than she was a second ago, she did.

"I'm sure she'll try her best," Momiji giggled from the corner. Kisa smiled at him.

"I think I'll take it off now. Thank you," Ayame waved his hand dismissively. She hurried into the change-room.

There was a winter formal at Kisa and Hiro's high school this year, and as Hiro put it so romantically, "Well, I wouldn't be able to dance with anyone else anyway, so Kisa was the only person I _could_ ask, stupid." Momiji had tried to hide his smile, but was caught and consequently made the outlet of Hiro's fury.

Not for the first time in the last week, Momiji felt a little guilty for being happy. There was a lot to mourn about.

Hatori had called his apartment late the night before, reporting that Akito's condition was falling drastically. It could be within the next few days that the God-figure of the Chinese Zodiac met his demise. Momiji didn't feel guilty about being happy in general- He felt guilty about the thought of his leaders possible death. It was a sick satisfaction that made Momiji disgusted with himself … but it was true. Life would be better without the tyrant.

He and Kisa left the shop a few minutes letter, bidding farewell to Ayame. Kisa had been thinking, remembering to bring an umbrella to for them to share. Regardless of the blockade, however, Momiji still pulled his jacket tighter around himself and his bucket hat closer to his ears. It was fricking _freezing_ out!

"Oh no!"

"What?" Kisa asked. Momiji had stopped walking, eyes wide.

"I forgot my camera and textbooks at Ayame's! I have to go back."

"I'll come with you." She said, sideling up to him, lifting the umbrella back above them, but Momiji shook his head and shrugged her off.

"Nah, you should get home. Your mom will be worried." He said, patting her head, "And you wouldn't want to risk getting that dress wet." He glanced down and the plastic wrapped parcel in her other hand. Kisa hesitated a bit, but took a step back.

"Ok, if you're sure…"

"I'm sure. I'll see you later in the week, ok?"

"Kay!" She grinned, turning and hurrying towards the shelter of the bus stop. Kisa had grown into a beautiful young woman, Momiji mused as he watched her prance away.

Momiji had enrolled in a photography course after graduation, and after two years, he was hired part-time at the Tokyo-tourism offices. The job was amazing and after only a year of working with them, they granted him a scholarship to go back to school, getting a higher degree of education in the photographic arts while still paying him for each picture he brought in for brochures and posters individually.

The back of his neck, un-protected by his hat, was wet, and water droplets were being sucked up by the hemp of his necklace, now softened from age and wear. It felt heavy, and itchy at times, but Momiji spared little thought on it, as he darted puddles and other civilians who were running for cover from the growing storm.

His breath was coming out in little white puffs now, and he sprinted down the sidewalk, one hand clutched to his hat and the other holding his jacket closed. He turned a corner quickly.

_BAM!_

"Oh my god!" The person he had run into was similarly sprawled out on the concrete, and Momiji shuffled on his knees towards them, "I'm _so,_ so, **so** sorry! Are you ok? Do you need help?"

The person chuckled, his head turned. He picked up a black backpack that had been thrown a few feet behind him, and stood. He towered over Momiji, who was propping himself up on his palm. "I'm fine. Thanks."

That voice… It was familiar…

"What about you?"

His white hair was mostly lying flat against his face, and he offered a hand to Momiji, who stared at him with wide eyes, mouth open. Momiji promptly fell over.

"Seriously, are you ok? Do you want me to call someone?"

"H-Ha-?"

"Yes…" The taller man asked, crouching down and setting his bag to the side. Momiji's voice was lost. This couldn't be happening.

"Haru?"

The man furrowed his eyebrows, kneeling now, closer to Momiji's face, "How- how do you-?"

Haru leaned closer, tilting the blonde's face upwards. Brown eyes met silver. Haru gasped.

"Momiji?"

---

Well, this was the first chapter. I'll have another out this week (I hope) but I'm away from Thursday until Monday April fourth or fifth (I can't remember which) so I wont be able to update. I hope you liked it- Haru/Momiji isn't exactly a common pairing, but as I said, they are two of my favourite characters.

Please **review**! I would really, really love to hear from you!


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